My mind's like a deadly disease
by IaMcHrIsSi
Summary: The thing is, Daisy always kind of knew it would end like this. Daisy, after Hive.


The thing is, Daisy always kind of knew it would end like this.

Maybe not quite like this, with a fucking alien in her _freaking head_ , with Lincoln dead and Mack almost the same, with all of it being her fault, but she always knew that it would end. And she always knew it wouldn't be pretty. It never is, with her.

Daisy knows that nothing lasts. It's one of the core rules of the world, the one thing she's always sort of build her life around. The better things are, the less likely they are to last. The more she liked the foster parents, or the new nun, or the kids at the orphanage, the quicker they'd be gone again. She _knows_ that.

She used to be good at it, too. Used to be good at keeping people at a distance, at not caring too much. She remembers, vividly, how it ended with Miles, almost a life time ago, and yet only three years. She'd walked away, and it had stung, but only a bit. She'd loved him, once upon a time, but she'd always known it would end, and so she had prepared herself for it from the moment she first started to care for him.

Ward, too, wasn't much of a problem. Well, he had been a problem in the sense that he'd tried to kill Fitz and Simmons, and that he'd been a Nazi, and that he had some sort of creepy stalkery obsession with her, but emotionally? She didn't have a problem with him being a bad guy, with leaving him in the dust of her past.

Daisy has never defined herself by others. She'd never been someone's daughter, someone's sister. She was herself, first, last and always, even when she disappeared into the label of a Shield agent, even when she followed her mother, even when she protected her people. She made her own decisions, decided her own actions, her own loyalties.

But now... Hive took so much more than just her ability to choose. He took _her._ He stole _her,_ and she doesn't think she can steal herself back. Whenever she looks at Mack she sees him lying under her, bleeding and screaming, May's eyes are dark pits that only seem to hold Andrew, brave and honorable and dead because of her, Daisy, and her bunk is a single reminder of Lincoln. The looks in her friends eyes speak of pity, of fear, and Daisy can't stand it, can't look at any of them anymore.

She's always hated pity, always hated that look people got when they learned she was an orphan, a foster child, a high school drop out. When she was thirteen, she had punched a woman because of it. She'd been grounded for a month, but it had been worth it.

And now? Now her friends not only pity her. They are afraid, truly afraid, and how could they not be? She is afraid, afraid of herself, of her own mind, of the fact that she still wants him back, wants that feeling of purpose, of fulfillment, that he gave her. It made her feel like everything was possible, like she was important, like the sun came up and everything was alight or some fucking bullshit.

The point is, she was free, was herself again, and then she went back, tried to give herself to him again. And that means that she's dangerous, because how fucking deranged do you have to be to willingly give your mind up again? And that means that she can't stay here, where they all are, where they treat her like she's as breakable as glass when in fact she's a freaking monster.

That's why she packs up her bags in the middle of the night, taking only the bare necessities. It's not the first time she's run away, she knows how this works, and the fact that she does makes her take a deep breath. Her hands are steady for the first time in days.

She takes a couple pictures, of her mother, her father, Lincoln, one of the team. No electronics, she knows too well how easily they are tracked. The old hula doll, reminder of an easier and less complicated life. A few cloths, and a blanket. She'll need it when she sleeps on the street.

She checked up on her van, always kept an eye on it, because it was home, for a while at least, and Daisy has never given up a retreat willingly, but it would not do now. She's changed too much to go back there. And anyway, they'd be on the look out for it. They know her, at least a bit.

A short message on Phil's desk, to tell him that she wasn't kidnapped or anything, that she left willingly, and that they don't have to look for her, and then she leaves. She hopes they listen. It sends a sharp sting to her heart, to think that there are people who will genuinely care that she's gone now, but she can't think about that too much. She has to protect them, after all.

Getting out of the base isn't a problem. She's not a prisoner, not under quarantine or anything. She's free to leave. When she steps outside, she takes a moment to breath, and close her eyes. It feels wrong, but nothing has felt right since Hive, so that doesn't mean anything. Images of Lincoln, of Andrew, of Mack, of Trip, of her mother, of countless others who died because of her flit in her mind. She does not look back.

She had a family. That's a first. She had a family, and now she doesn't anymore. Now all she has are broken shards and nightmares. And she does not want any of them to get cut, to hurt or bleed or die because of her. So she does what she has to do.

The thing is, Daisy has always kind of known it would end like this. She just didn't realize it would hurt so much.


End file.
